


Overworked

by Cheshire_Hearts



Series: Ratchet Week 2020 [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Ratchet Week 2020, Ratchet needs to a break, Sappy, a hint of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:29:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Hearts/pseuds/Cheshire_Hearts
Summary: Ratchet has a problem with overworking himself. Drift has a plan to get him to stop work on time for once.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet
Series: Ratchet Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759033
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Overworked

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4's prompt was working overtime for Ratchet Week and this is what I've come up with. 
> 
> //Comm speak//

Drift had a few cycles left until Ratchet’s shift ended, which gave him plenty of time to finish all of his preparations. Swerve was giving him a look over the glass he was polishing, his field wavering briefly over Drift’s request. The swordsmech gave his best reassuring smile, making sure his fangs stayed hidden. He needed this to go smoothly or the rest of his plan was more likely to fail.

“You know I’m not supposed to allow Engex to leave this room. I can’t just sell you a whole bottle of Ratchet’s favorite drink and let you leave with it.” Swerve said, placing the glass down and picking up another.

“I know, it’s usually against Magnus’s rules, but you don’t have to worry about that Swerve. I thought ahead and already got permission from him for this. Here, just look at this datapad he wrote up for me about it.”

Drift held out the ‘pad and waited for Swerve to take it. The minibot grabbed it, powering it on and looking over it for a klik. He started scrolling through and kept scrolling until he reached the very bottom where Ultra Magnus’s signature was. He looked back up at the hopeful look on Drift’s face. 

“Fine,” Swerve acquiesced with a loud sigh. “Just try and keep this quiet. I don’t need everyone trying to take Engex out of here, especially Whirl. Do  _ not  _ let Whirl know about this.”

“Thank you so much for this, Swerve! I won’t tell anyone about this, either.” Drift grinned broadly. “Do you want me to pay now or just put it on my monthly tab?”

The minibot hopped off his stool and went to his storeroom to grab a bottle for Drift and came back out with it. He handed it over.

“Thanks, and I’ll put it on your tab. I’ve got work to finish before everyone starts showing up in a bit after the shift change.”

“Okay, and thank you again!” Drift called over his shoulder as he hurried out of the bar. Swerve just shook his helm at the white mech.

Drift tucked the Engex in his subspace and hurried out of the bar. Ratchet’s shift was almost over and he knew First Aid would be there waiting for him to arrive early. Drift had worked this part of the plan out in advance with the new CMO, and they were both sure it would get the cranky medic out of the medbay on time for once. That or it would completely fail and Drift would have to return to the medbay to drag his Conjunx out forcibly. 

//I’m on my way to the medbay now, Aid. Are you ready for this?// Drift sent the comm out and lengthened his stride more.

//Yeah, he’s in the back right now. He shouldn’t notice you come in, but still send a ping when you get here and I’ll let you know if you’re good to come in or not.//

The white and red speedster sent a confirmation ping to First Aid and worried at his lower lip plate. He was both nervous and excited about this. With any luck, the plan would work flawlessly. Ratchet just had to read the note Drift had written for him.

Thankfully, the walk took no time at all, and Drift sent a quick ping to First Aid when he reached the medbay. First Aid sent him a confirmation ping and Drift split inside. He crept to Ratchet’s desk, swept a mountain of datapads off, and arranged the bottle of Engenx and his handwritten note on the center of the desk. He shot Aid a grin and thumbs up as the medic cringed at all the noise.

“What is going on out there?” Ratchet barked. The other two mechs in the medbay could easily hear his pedes stomping against the decking.

Drift’s optics went wide. He vaulted over the desk, sprinting past a stunned First Aid who scrambled to look like he was super busy and vanished out of the medbay. Ratchet stomped out of the backroom right after the doors closed behind Drift’s hasty retreat. He looked around suspiciously, dull optics landing on the younger medic.

“What are you doing, Aid?”

“Paperwork and trying to work out next week's schedule.” First Aid replied, the picture of innocence.

Ratchet narrowed his optics at the other, before grumbling and turning toward the back room, already making his way to the darkened doorway. First Aid looked up quickly and panicked. Ratchet hadn’t even looked over at his desk and his steps faltered. He had to catch himself a couple of times.

“Aren’t you going to see what made that loud noise from a klik ago?” He asked.

Ratchet froze, looking at First Aid over his shoulder. “And you can’t?” First Aid pointedly looked at his datapad. “Fine, fine. Where’d it come from anyways?”

“Your desk, I think. It’s probably that ridiculous stack of datapads you keep there.” 

With a roll of his optics, Ratchet turned to walk over to his desk. The tower of datapads had, indeed, fallen off the desk somehow. He bent and picked them all up, joints creaking the whole time. He turned to put them in the middle of his desk when his optics landed on the bottle and the small note leaning against it with his name written neatly on it. Ratchet dumped the datapads on his desk chair and picked up the note and bottle, turning to First Aid.

“Any idea where these came from?” He asked.

First Aid looked up from his pretend work, acting like he hadn’t been watching the older medic’s every move from over the top of it. “Nope, never seen them before. Where’d you find them at?”

“They were on my desk, where all my datapads used to be,” Ratchet raised an optical ridge.

“Huh, wonder how they got there.” Ratchet rolled his optics at Aid’s flippant tone. “What’s the note say?”

“No idea.” Ratchet subspaced the Engex and carefully opened the note. He recognized Drift’s handwriting immediately and smiled. His mate sure knew how to be sweet sometimes.

His optics tracked down the note, which was much longer than he had thought it would be. Drift didn’t exactly write him long notes, mostly just short little things about how much he loved his mate or how he hoped Ratchet would have a good day. Sappy, domestic things like that. Sometimes they included Drift’s Spectralist slag, which always made Ratchet roll his optics but left him smiling all day like a fool.

This note proved to be  _ very  _ different. Ratchet felt his faceplates heat up and he quickly checked his chronometer after he’d finished reading it. He coughed into his servo loud enough to draw First Aid’s optics up from the datapad he was pretending to read. The datapad wasn’t even turned on and he’d been focused entirely on Ratchet the whole time, he’d just been pretending to ignore the other medic.

“Well, my shift is over so I’ll be heading out now. I’ll finish inventory tomorrow if Velocity doesn’t do the rest tonight.”

“Alright then. Have a good recharge cycle, Ratchet.”

“Thanks,” Ratchet mumbled, already hurrying out the medbay doors and rushing off down the hallway in the direction of the habsuite.

First Aid blinked and kept staring at the medbay doors long after they’d shut. //What did you write in that note, Drift?//

//He actually read it?//

//Was he not supposed to?//

//No. No, no. That’s good … So, he’s on his way?//

//He practically ran out of here. Makes me wonder what you wrote on there.// 

//Oh, not too much. Just made a promise to him. Thanks again for all your help, First Aid. Hopefully, after this it’ll be much easier to get him to leave his shift on time. Who knows, maybe he’ll retire in another few centuries.//

First Aid snorted at Drift’s message. Ratchet wouldn’t ever retire. First Aid was pretty sure the only thing they could do for the other medic was to make sure he fueled, didn’t get carried away all the time, and that he left the medbay when his shift actually ended. Anything more than that would be considered a miracle and likely to  _ never  _ happen. At least today First Aid didn’t have to deal with a cranky, overworked Ratchet.


End file.
